


And Never Brought To Mind

by seatides



Category: Mrs. Hawking Series - Roberts & Gabin
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:02:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23246725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seatides/pseuds/seatides
Summary: Mary Stone was no more; she had been replaced by Mary Swann, a person Mrs. Hawking did not know and did not care to meet.
Relationships: Mary Stone/Arthur Swann (background)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	And Never Brought To Mind

**Author's Note:**

> Since this story happens during the last scene of "Fallen Women", there are obviously spoilers for that play and, um, the entire Mrs. Hawking series. 
> 
> Content note: mention of sex work.

Victoria Hawking paced in front of the fireplace, brown eyes fixed on something far away. The fingers of her right hand drummed in turn against the tip of her thumb.

The chime of the doorbell interrupted her reverie. Pausing briefly in her pacing, she looked towards the door. Presumably it was someone in need of help; now that the business with the Ripper was over, it was time to turn her attention back to helping the unfortunate women of London. Miss Kelly's words still rang in her ears from their second meeting: _Well, there's no one more friendless than us_. There had been something to Miss Kelly that reminded Mrs. Hawking of herself as a young woman, a burning fire of resentment that the world so limited her options. Had Miss Kelly lived—Mrs. Hawking's lips tightened as she thought it—had Miss Kelly lived, perhaps she would have been amenable to learning how to fight back against those forces that sought to curtail a woman's freedom.

The doorbell rang again, this time overlapping with a tumbling peal of faraway church bells.

"Miss Stone, there is clearly someone..." Mrs. Hawking's voice died away, echoing slightly in the empty house. Ah. Right. However long the doorbell rang, Miss Mary Stone would never again open the door to admit the supplicant. She had made her opinions clear when she turned in her notice three weeks ago, choosing marriage to that... _policeman_ over a chance to genuinely change the world for so many, not just herself. The racket of the bells must be to mark the end of the wedding ceremony, and with it the end of Mary Stone as an independent agent. Indeed, Mary Stone was no more; she had been replaced by Mary Swann, a person Mrs. Hawking did not know and did not care to meet.

With a sharp sigh and shake of the head, Mrs. Hawking went to answer the door. She jerked it open to find a tall young woman with dark hair and light grey eyes who stood with her arms crossed over her chest, pulling a worn plaid shawl tightly around her body.

"What do you want?"  
  
"Are you Mrs. Hawking, then?"

"I am. Let me guess—you've heard of my... reputation, and have nowhere else to turn for aid?"

The young woman's eyes flashed. "There's no need to rub it in, ma'am. But yes, I... it's my sister Betsy. She's in a terrible fix, and we need help."

"I see. Come in." Mrs. Hawking turned on her heel and strode down the hall. She heard the young woman close the door behind her and follow.

In the parlor, Mrs. Hawking gestured the young woman to a seat with a jerk of her chin. "Sit there. My nephew Mr. Nathaniel Hawking will be along—" she stopped herself. The boy had made his choice as well. He was probably at the church with Miss Stone, making himself ridiculous and emotional as per usual. Mrs. Hawking cleared her throat. "What is your name?"

The young woman looked at the slight layer of dust on the upholstery, then shrugged and sat down. "Mary Gray, ma'am. Your nephew won't be joining us, then?"

"No. No, he will not. You said your sister was in trouble?"

Miss Gray looked down to where she was twisting a frayed edge of her shawl in her fingers. "Yes, Betsy. She... well, she's missing, ma'am. A few days ago she said she was going to spend the evening with some friends, but she didn't come home. What with the Ripper about and all, I got scared."

"Have you gone to the police?"

Miss Gray flushed and looked down. "No, they wouldn't have done anything. Betsy and her friends, they're good girls but sometimes they dabble in the gay life. She works in a shop—I do too—and while the pay is enough for me, Betsy likes having pretty things. Her friends all call her Betsy Belle. So she'll go with a man now and again to have a taste of finer things and earn a bit extra. She always tells me when she's going out for a gay evening—always, Mrs. Hawking! Betsy says she doesn't let the men have more than her hand or her mouth, because she doesn't want to get with child yet. We've talked about it so much—we talk about everything. She wants to get married and have children, someday. But the police are all men, and they wouldn't understand. If I told them she was in the gay life sometimes, they'd think she wasn't a respectable girl the rest of the time."

Mrs. Hawking's eyebrows rose slightly. "And so you come to me instead."

"I heard some people talking about you. Said you helped all kinds of women, not just "respectable" ones."

"I see." Mrs. Hawking gave an internal sigh of relief. She had felt a twinge of pain in her abdomen at the mention of the Ripper. The scar had healed well enough, but the bullet was still there; she could feel it sometimes pressing against her skin. "Well, Miss Gray, I can assure you that your sister was not a victim of the Ripper. Who told you about me?"

Miss Gray had looked up quickly at the news, and her eyes sparkled. "Oh, thank God! But... how do you know? How are you so sure?"

"You must trust me, Miss Gray. Who told you?"

"A nurse in one of the workhouses, I think her name was... Strallan?"

Violet Strallan. Obviously the drunkard had managed to partially hold her tongue, otherwise Miss Gray would not have been so surprised to hear that the Ripper was dead. That was some measure of good news.  
  
"Thank you, Miss Gray. Now. If I am to help you, there are still some things I need to know. When, and where, did you last see your sister?"

Miss Gray continued her story, but Mrs. Hawking was only half listening. Her mind was racing ahead to assemble a plan of action. If Miss Gray was telling the truth, her sister would have been not unlike Miss Kelly—a lively, high-spirited girl who for some unfathomable reason enjoyed male company. Very well, this would be a chance for Nathaniel to continue working at his disguises. If he loitered about the particular fountain that Miss Gray was describing, he would be able to ask questions about Betsy Gray and so start to track her down. Unless, of course, he made a fool of himself the way he had when he first met Miss Kelly and Miss Strallan. If Justin were less of a useless rake, he might be good at this sort of work, but one had to work with the tools available. Nathaniel might be the embodiment of that blasted phrase about winning more flies with honey than vinegar, but he was effective in his own way.

Had been effective. Christ on the cross, would she never remember how the boy had also betrayed her?

"Mrs. Hawking?"

Mrs. Hawking blinked. Miss Gray had trailed off from describing what Betsy had been wearing when she last saw her, and now was looking at her with a peculiar expression. "Mrs. Hawking, are you alright?"

Mrs. Hawking attempted a smile. "Yes, I am quite well, Miss Gray. I believe I have all that I need to find your sister. Return to this house in three days, and I will have much more information."

She rose, and Miss Gray stood as well. With a curtsey, Miss Gray thanked Mrs. Hawking and hurried down the hall.

Once she heard the front door close, Mrs. Hawking slumped back into her chair with a heavy sigh. The case was simple enough, but it would involve so much that she'd been able to avoid for the past eight years. Watching and waiting were less of a problem, but Miss Stone and the boy had done so much of the talking. Elizabeth Frost's mocking voice floated unbidden through her memory: _What's the worst that could happen? You'd have to talk to someone?_

"If only these particular people weren't so likely to be beastly men and foolish girls, all intent on one thing", Mrs. Hawking muttered sourly. Then she frowned. The phrase had caused another memory to come to light. This one was the first case Miss Stone had ever helped with, and the first time she had ever shown her true strength of spirit. _Is that the sum of it, then? The women are fools and the men are beasts? Is there no one worth taking into your life and your confidence?_

There was only one answer to that, Miss Stone; no. Oh, she had tried to find someone to share the burden of righting all the wrongs of the world, but it never worked. Elizabeth had seen the wrongs as clearly, but was more interested in riding the current than in changing its course. As much as it galled to admit it, Mrs. Hawking thought, Elizabeth had always been more clever. Mary and Nathaniel had worked to change the current, but they were far too reliant upon her for praise and petting—especially the boy. Only Malaika had been as willing to fight against the current, but she was on a different path that could never again cross with Victoria's. Mrs. Hawking cursed the ignorance of her younger self that had so ruined the chance of a partnership before it could happen. As Malaika had said herself, they were not the girls they had been in Singapore all those bitter years ago. It was best to leave the past buried and not make the mistake of trying to lean on another person.

But was it best? Mrs. Hawking sighed, and reached for a notebook. There had been something in Miss Gray's voice as she had spoken of the conversations and trust she shared with her sister, a warmth that reminded Mrs. Hawking of the Singapore sun on her head as she and Malaika planned the raid on the Governor's granaries. It was the same warmth that had glowed in Mary and Nathaniel as they each vowed their desire to help right the wrongs of the world. It was the warmth of conviction, of the solid belief that people working together could change things. Mrs. Hawking's face grew somber as she thought. Her own convictions had been, like herself, as cold as they must be. Miss Stone had always been so fiery in her beliefs, especially when standing up to Mrs. Hawking. What was it the girl had said in that last conversation before the Ripper?

"Well, Miss Stone," Mrs. Hawking said out loud, her voice echoing slightly in the hollow, dusty parlor. "You've made your choice. Your _policeman_ of a husband will never leave you alone, and so you'll get your wish. You'll never, ever end up like me."

With that, Mrs. Hawking picked up her pen and began to write out her plan. People were not to be relied upon; best to leave them aside and concentrate on her work.


End file.
